


Bet On It

by Lexiconicy



Category: Nothing Much to Do
Genre: AU, Espionage, F/M, Fake Out Make Out, spy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 00:32:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4645752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexiconicy/pseuds/Lexiconicy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ten bucks says that I can work this cover much better than he can.” Bea places a ten dollar note on Pedro’s desk.<br/>“Ten bucks says you’re wrong!” Ben places another, more crumpled but otherwise identical note on top.</p><p>In which Bea and Ben play a married couple for a cover and it gets intense.</p><p>Inspired by "I Do Spy" by BillieShears and Ravenclawsome</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bet On It

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I Do Spy (Some Marks Of Love In Her)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3866614) by [BillieShears](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BillieShears/pseuds/BillieShears), [Ravenclawsome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenclawsome/pseuds/Ravenclawsome). 



> I got really inspired after I read their incredible, but slightly angstier story. Set before the events of I Do Spy and Take Me Anywhere.

Beatrice laughs and leans onto Benedick’s arm. Benedick responds by patting her hand fondly. They wave at the couple as they move back towards the centre of the elaborately decorated ballroom. A grand chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting golden light across the circular room.

“I’m gonna kick your ass at this, Hobbes,” she whispers, only just loud enough for him to hear.

“Aha, that’s Mr Smith to you, Mrs Smith,” Benedick replies.

“Those are the most conspicuous names ever. Just saying. All spies go for Smith as a name, making it the most conspicuous name ever.”

“Tell that to Pedro. He chose them.”

“Of course he would. Fuckin loser. But I’m still going to kick your ass”

“You wish. I’ve always been a more convincing actor than you.”

 

_24 hours earlier_

 

“We need a team to go in and go undercover until the time is right and then to take out the targets without fuss,” Pedro paraphrases from the file in front of him.

“We’ll take it,” Benedick pipes up.

“Are you sure? The cover is a married couple.” He looks at them incredulously. Team Blessed has never been able to last a mission without a dispute.

Beatrice and Benedick freeze at the new information.

“Well…I’m fine if he’s going to be mature about it,” Bea splutters.

“I can be much more mature about it than you” Benedick retorts

“Ohh, where’d you get that comeback, a seven year old?”

“It’s still better than any of yours, not that they’re really that hard to top.”

Everyone else in the room sighs.

 _Again?_ Meg mouths across to Hero.

Hero just rolls her eyes with a smile.

“Back to the actual problem at hand, are you two actually game to do this?”

“Ten bucks says that I can work this cover much better than he can.” Bea places a ten dollar note on Pedro’s desk.

“Ten bucks says you’re wrong!” Ben places another, more crumpled but otherwise identical note on top.

“You’re on, dickface!”

“Get ready to lose, craphole!”

The communal sigh runs throughout the room again.

“Let’s start building a profile then!”

“We’d better not make it too hard, otherwise you won’t be able to cope!”

The two leave the room, bickering noisily as usual.

“Fifty bucks says that Ben kisses Bea first.” Pedro puts a fifty dollar note next to their pile of tens.

“No way, Bea is way too proud for that. And anyway, Ben is way too scared of getting punched by Beatrice to initiate. I bet fifty dollars that Bea kisses him first.” Meg pulls fifty dollars out of her back pocket and shoves it on top of Pedro’s.

Hero looks at them all. “Is this really something we should be betting on?”

“Fifty dollars says she punches him for it later,” Balthazar pipes up.

Ursula smirks. “Okay, but if they find out about the bet, Hero gets all the money for being the only dissenting voice.”

“Ooooooh. I like this. Playing off our sneaky spy skills. I am in,” Meg agrees.

Balth looks around. “I feel like I’m gonna win either way, because watching them flip shit should be funny anyway.”

Pedro nods. “It’s settled. But Hero can’t explicitly tell them about the bet. They have to find out indirectly.”

Hero smiles. “You’re on, Donaldson.”

 

_24 hours later_

 

Beatrice runs her hands along the front of the dress, smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles in the fabric. A hand sneaks around her waist and she tenses for a moment before recognising the familiar smell of his laundry soap and something vaguely fruity.

“The first target just entered from your eleven o’clock,” Benedick whispers, hardly loud enough for her to hear.

Beatrice smiles as though he’s said something funny and turns around to hug him properly.

“I see him. Do we engage now, or later?”

“Wait until he’s out of anyone’s sight and then I’ll go.”

“Sounds fine.” Beatrice lets him go and leans against a table instead.

Benedick gestures to the room around them. “This is the sort of glamourous heist that I was expecting when I got into the espionage business.”

“Is roughing it too tough on poor Bennykins?”

“No, but you can’t honestly tell me that you prefer three days staking out the top of a building with a sniper, just waiting for the target to hang out their washing. This tops that easily.”

“At least then there are no witnesses and you’ve already sorted out your whole plan. These party things are too unpredictable. They rely too much on other outside factors that I can’t control.”

“The sniper stuff often relies on me though.”

“Well, yeah, but I can _trust_ you, Ben,” Beatrice punches him on the arm lightly. “I haven’t spent all this time with you because you’re _unreliable_.”

Another party goer starts walking their way so Beatrice grabs Ben’s hand and laughs like he’s just said something really sweet.

“But this is like, the ultimate Bond heist! This is the spy life of the silver screen!” Ben whisper-argues.

“I can’t believe I just said one of the nicest things I’ve ever said about you and you continued the argument.”

Ben raises his hands in surrender. “I’m just making the most of an actual _glamourous_ assignment for once and you’re just bumming me out with your ‘It’s easier just be alone and self-reliant’ shit while we’re _literally at the classiest party ever_. You have no appreciation for the higher class, and that’s just not my fault.”

“You’re acting so high and mighty now, but literally _yesterday_ you were eating a concoction I can only describe as the most disgusting meal ever! Noodles and _yogurt_? That is the least classy thing I have _ever_ seen.”

“Shush, you’re going to get us caught, you loudmouth. Though, I will admit that it was not my finest hour. Nor my finest meal.”

Beatrice holds in her laughter. She refuses to get caught because Benedick acted like a moron _yesterday_.

She sweeps a quick glance across the room. “Your target has disappeared from view. The sooner we can get this over with, the better.”

“I’ll be back soon, my dear.”

“I’m sure you will.”

He skirts the edge of the room, stopping to chat briefly before moving on.

She watches him. For defensive reasons. Definitely for defensive reasons, she convinces herself.

She picks up a drink. Mingling sucks. She honestly wants to come into contact with as few people as possible tonight. They’ll just become another person who could recognise her later. Sure, she’s got fancier hair and makeup that changes the perception of her face ever so slightly, but she still feels…exposed.

It’s hard to hide from well-meaning but persistent hosts while also trying to keep on top of a four-person long hit list, not to mention that you don’t actually want anyone finding out that you’re the one picking them off like flies. Basically, it’s hard to keep all smiles and manners while you’re actually killing off party goers one by one.

Benedick comes (figuratively) waltzing back into the expansive room (though at this point, it wouldn’t even faze Beatrice if he was literally waltzing back in. He really is sucker for Bond-style action movies).

He walks up to her looking like he was trying to hold in the giggles. “The target took a bullet to the head and a surprise adventure down the laundry shoot.”

Bea resists the urge to facepalm. “You’re totally gonna write that on the report, aren’t you.”

He winks conspiratorially. “You know me too well.”

“And _you_ know that Pedro is gonna pull you up on that.”

“It’s never stopped me before.”

Beatrice shook her head before scanning the room and letting her eyes fall on the target.

“Bingo. She is much younger looking than I had expected.”

Ben whips around, trying to catch as glance.

Bea smacks him on the arm. “No, please, be more suspicious-looking.”

“I’m just trying to find her in this crowd of other rich people with plastic surgery. There’s a lot of them, you know.”

“Yeah. I’d kinda noticed. Every time they try to talk, their mouth doesn’t move properly.”

The target starts making a beeline for the door. “Your target is on the move,” Ben points out unhelpfully.

“I can see that. I’ll be back.” Bea runs a gentle hand across her elaborate hairdo that Hero had done not hours before.

“I know. I’ve tried losing you before. It didn’t work.”

“Well clearly, you’re not a very good spy.”

Ben can’t think of another retort before she disappears into the sea of expensive dresses and genuine suits. He watches her leave before taking a deep breath, as though to drink in the glamourous lifestyle surrounding him. Sure, it would be fun to live the high life, but he’s in it for the heist. There’s something alluring about the idea of taking out the upper-class evil with a smirk, champagne in hand. But he could see where Bea was coming from. It’s dangerous. People are changeable, prone to deception and manipulation.

There’s never anything truly sure about the James Bond type story. It’s all rapid-fire thinking and somehow perfectly accurate improvisation. It’s stressful and incredibly high-pressure. It’s not real life.

But it’s nice to dream.

Bea’s return jolts him out of his daydream.

“Don’t you think this whole thing is weird? We’re at a _charity_ function and we’re literally murdering people in the next room. Doesn’t that feel like a great irony?” she looks around as though someone is going to bust them for ruining the charity of the event rather than the actual murdering of the people.

“But we _are_ doing charity. These people aren’t good people, Bea. If we’re taking them out, it means there was no other way to get rid of them.”

“Making the world a better place, one assassination at a time,” she remarks dryly.

“That’s the spirit! Sort of…” The watch on Ben’s wrist vibrates ever so slightly and he taps it gently in reply. “It’s been two hours. They’ll want an update.” He pretends to fix his hair so that the watch is just next to his cheek. “Signor Mountanto to the Estate. Team Blessed has 2 of 4. Final two unseen.”

Bea cringes at the tiny screech of feedback that comes through afterwards. It’s not loud, put it’s incredibly high pitched. Ben smacks the watch a couple of times.

“Ursula should really look into fixing that,” he mutters.

But still, a tiny singsong voice tinkles over their earpieces. “The Crown Jewel to Team Blessed. Understood. We hope to see you soon!” before crackling out again.

Bea takes a look at the time. “As soon as we’re done with the couple, let’s leg it out of here. This place is stifling my spirit, I swear,” she groans.

“Cheer up, love. We’re the best in the business.”

She smacks him on the arm. “You know what that was for.”

“Messaged received. Your name is Beatrice, not love.”

“You’d think after working together for so long you’d know it.” Bea’s face lights up momentarily. “There’s the couple, oh my god. Thank goodness.”

Ben casts his gaze across the floor to a dark haired couple chatting with the hosts. “Don’t they look a little young to be here?”

“So do we, you dork. Let’s just get this over with.” Bea starts dragging him across the floor towards the targets. He learned a long time ago that it’s easier just to agree with Beatrice than to fight with her, so he complies.

Right before they reach the conversation, Bea stops, takes a deep breath and puts on a smile. To anyone else, it might look like the real deal, but Ben has known her long enough to know when her smile is forced.

She puts a hand on the shoulder of the dark-haired woman and giggles politely (real Beatrice doesn’t giggle). “It’s Brittany, right? I’m so sorry, but I just had to come over here and tell you how gorgeous your dress is!” she gushes.

The hosts excuse themselves from the conversation and float away to chat with other guests, leaving Team Blessed with the target couple.

“Yeah, I could say the same to you! It’s Jane right?”

“Yeah! Talk about the most boring name ever. This is my husband Jake.” Bea gestures in Ben’s direction while he stares down the dark-haired man standing with Brittany.

Brittany laughs, “I almost thought you were going to say John. You know, like the movie?”

Beatrice curses Pedro with everything not focussed on holding up the conversation. He could run an organisation of spies, but not come up with decent cover names? Typical. “We get that a lot. What a weird coincidence though!”

Brittany gestures toward her husband. “This is Michael. We work in bank finance.”

Bea smiles and laughs. “No, way! We work in big business!”

Ben feels neglected and has to interject. “I own the company.”

Bea glares at him. “Just because you’re a man doesn’t mean you should get to be the owner. Screw your dad for that.” She mutters.

Ben raises his arms in surrender. “I didn’t ask for this! It’s not my fault my dad has a lot of internalised misogyny!” (He’s definitely getting way into this character.)

Bea smacks him on the arm before realising they’re still in conversation with the target couple. “I’m sorry.”

Brittany and Michael just laugh. “Classic marriage problems. Everyone has them. Do want to chat outside? It’s getting really noisy in here,” Michael suggests.

Bea breathes a sigh of relief. “That sounds great actually.” The fewer witnesses, the better.

The two couples stroll outside into the outskirts of the elaborate garden.

“So how is the company going for you then?” Michael asks.

“Oh, we’ve had some rough patches, but we’re on our way back up again.” Ben replies as they round the corner, just out of sight.

“Yeah, Bea agrees. “No thanks to his no good-”

Bea is cut off as Brittany kicks her in the stomach, sending her flying back into the brick wall. Ben whips his gun out and Michael follows suit, so that they’re staring each other down. Brittany holds the gun to Beatrice’s forehead.

“You’re almost too easy, ‘Team Blessed’. I thought you might be at least a bit harder to corner for a duo so renowned for their skill,” Brittany drawls.

“This is going to feel like a stupid question, but you’re trying to kill us? Am I following correctly?” Ben asks.

If Bea wasn’t up against a wall with a gun to her head, she’d be facepalming.

“Yes, dumbass. Though I hadn’t thought that Signor Mountanto and Lady Disdain would actually be married. That part was a surprise.” Brittany adds. “ARAGON did not mention that much.”

“We’re not…” Ben splutters. “Wait, you work for ARAGON?”

“We work for whoever is willing to pay the most, ARAGON just happened to be offering.” Michael smiles. “And you say you’re not married, but you sure fuckin’ act like it.”

Bea and Ben exchange disgusted faces. “Ew,” Bea mutters, despite the gun to her face.

“Shut up!” Brittany yells, looking over to Michael, mouthing expletives. Bea takes this chance to duck under the gun and punch Brittany in the stomach, whipping out her gun and shooting at Michael’s leg in the process.

Ben uses the reeling Brittany as a body shield and shoots Michael in the head. Beatrice shoots Brittany in the chest, who promptly crumples, the blood seeping across the already scarlet patterning.

Ben has an epiphany. “That’s why I thought they looked too young!” he cries, throwing his hands up. “They’re not the arms dealers we were after! They’re stand-ins! They were totally onto us!”

Realisation dawned on Beatrice’s face. “That would explain why they were making all the tactical moves that we’d usually have to politely nudge.” She kicks their bodies into the hedge awkwardly.

“We were too busy trying to kill them to notice that they were trying to kill us. Awkward much.”

“That was a little bit too close for comfort. Please give me my sniper back any day,” Bea sighs.

Voices make their way around the corner. Benedick and Beatrice look at each other. Shit. Beatrice’s heartrate doubles what it should be able to do. Benedick panics.

And smashes his lips onto hers.

“-There was such a ruckus, oh-” The party’s hosts round the corner and stands there awkwardly.

Beatrice shuts her eyes. _Please don’t see, please don’t see_.

The actual fact that Benedick Hobbes is kissing her becomes irrelevant for a scary minute.

The host abruptly turns around and walks away, his wife following suit.

Benedick’s lips do not leave Beatrice’s for another scary minute. This time, she is very aware of every detail of his lips, including the slightly fruity flavour that lingers.

Benedick releases her.

She stares at him.

He stares at her.

“G-Good thinking, Ben,” she splutters.

“Yeah, thanks,” he manages in reply.

They stand for an awkward moment.

Ben lifts his watch communicator up to his mouth. “Signor Mountanto to the Estate. Team Blessed is ready to leave. We’ll be in there in thirty minutes.”

“The Crown Jewel to Team Blessed. We’ll see you then,” Hero’s voice is the sound of comforting normalcy in the strangest situation they have ever been in.

The journey in the sleek car is silent until they get back.

 

_The Following Day_

 

“So we got away before anyone came into the garden and escaped without a hitch,” Ben concluded. He hoped that he didn’t sound suspicious. Because he reallllllly felt suspicious.

The bet from yesterday seem redundant now. Neither of them really care about the money anymore.

“Wow, nice job guys. Apart from that whole ‘assassins are after us as well’ thing, it really went off without a hitch. We should put you guys on these things more often,” Pedro decides.

“Noooooooo thank you,” Beatrice cuts in. “Give me my high buildings and sniper angles back. I would take them over that party nonsense any day.”

“I’m fine if she’s fine,” Ben agrees.

There is silence.

“We’re just gonna…” Bea starts.

“…go,” Ben finishes.

They scramble out of the room as quickly as possible.

“Something totally happened. My money’s on a kiss, but if they got down and-” Meg rambles.

“Meg, no,” Hero interjects.

“Just sayin’!”

“Well who gets the money from our bet then?” Pedro asks, looking at Meg and Balthazar.

“What bet?”

Ben and Bea are standing in the doorway to the office again.

“YES!” Hero stalks up to  Pedro’s desk and collects the pile of fifty dollar bills.

“Damn it.” Meg throws her hands up.

“Does someone want to explain what’s going on?” Ben asks.

Silence again.

“We bet on whether you guys would kiss or not,” Ursula blurts.

“Well, I didn’t and I get all the money because you found out.” Hero holds up the money for Team Blessed to see.

Ben and Bea look at each other slowly.

And promptly bolt from the room.

“I TOLD YOU!” Meg yells.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks! I included some tiny references to the original works and used some of the setup that they already had going, so I hope it worked out okay.


End file.
